


Road to Ruin

by WreakingHavok



Category: DreamSMP
Genre: Apocalypse, Bastardization of The Egg, Gen, Ranboo has memory issues, Ranboo is just really like. Confused I think, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), The c in Connor stands for what the fuck is going on, diverges at the execution but up until then it’s canon, jack manifold has protagonist delusions, set in the actual smp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreakingHavok/pseuds/WreakingHavok
Summary: “I’m glad you arrived,” Connor says. “Jack’s nice, he’s got good intentions, but he’s tired. He’s angry. You know?”“Yeah.” Ranboo does. He’d read through Jack’s notes - page after page of bitter anecdote, tragedy after tragedy; after that crash course in the history of this place, it’s not hard to see why Jack Manifold so often wears armor and a tight frown.Ranboo had caved in last night, too, turning his diary over to the front and picking over the first page until he had the names memorized. He tries not to feel bad for reading the books. No one is around for him to leak their secrets to, if what Jack says is true, and someone has to remember them.Witnessed by Dream, George, Sapnap, and Punz. (Also Eret fuck eret)Someone has to remember them.Really a shame that all they have is you.~Five weeks after Techno’s execution, Ranboo joins the server in the middle of an apocalypse.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo & Connor | ConnorEatsPants, yeah bet you didn’t see that one coming
Comments: 34
Kudos: 99





	1. preludium

**Author's Note:**

> TW: brief fight scene, Ranboo’s Signature Voice and Memory Issues (tm)
> 
> Title is from Alone Together by Fall Out Boy.

_~~Date: ??/??/??,  
Day ???? ??  
date:  
????~~ _

When Ranboo opens his eyes, there are no stars in the sky.

The air around him is frigid. Wind bites through his clothes - _a relatively clean suit jacket and red tie, classy_ \- and settles into his hair, blowing a few strands into his eyes. The only thing in the pitch black heavens is the moon, unnaturally yellow, lighting up the world just enough for him to see the dim outline of a wall surrounding the immediate area.

“Hello?” he calls, taking an experimental step forward. A few spruce trees and the occasional pile of rubble dot the limited landscape, casting shadows that make the hair on the back of his neck stand up straight. His own voice, familiar save the cowardly waver, echoes back at him with no other response.

He’s alone. 

“Hello,” Ranboo mumbles, and curls his arms around his chest. 

He can’t remember how he got here. He has no clue _why_ he’s here, either. He has nothing except his out of place business attire, the shoes on his feet, the sunglasses over his eyes - 

“Huh.” No wonder the sky had been so dull, what with his sight impaired like this. Hesitantly, he peels the sunglasses off his eyes, and regrets it instantly.

He’d thought the moon was bright before, but without the shades, everything glares so brightly that he yelps and presses his palms into his eyes. Pain stabs through his head, red and green lights flashing behind his eyelids. He shoves the glasses back on with fumbling fingers. 

Okay. _No stars._ No stars in exchange for vision. That seems fair. 

Ranboo breathes deep for a few moments, the air burning his lungs and sending the occasional shiver through his body. Another minute or two of exploration proves the walls to be built very soundly. Ranboo thinks he’d sooner break his hands than dig his way out with no tools. 

Out of ideas already, Ranboo sits with his back pressed to a tree and listens to the sounds of hostile creatures outside the walls. It’s only a matter of time before they spawn inside. He’s got nothing to fight with. 

Maybe they’ll just leave him alone. He’s survived worse. _Have you?_ Maybe. _Maybe you’ll die here._ It’s going to be fine. It always is.

From over the walls, someone screams.

_What was that?_

Ranboo shoots to his feet, looking around wildly. His heart jumps into his throat. 

The voice yells again - panicked, shrill, and Ranboo finally picks out the steady, low rumble of a horde amidst the rustle of the branches, all hisses and the clack of bones and moans that drag a horrified chill up Ranboo’s spine. 

“Hey,” Ranboo shouts back. “Hey! Where are you? How do I get out of here?”

There isn’t an answer, but the sounds of struggle get louder somewhere off to his right. Ranboo stumbles towards it, hands splayed against the rough wall. 

“Hello,” he calls. “Hello!”

Another guttural yell, almost drowned out by the groaning mobs. They’re far away, but they can’t be too far if he can hear them this clearly.

He’s got to do something. _What? What?_ someone is getting hurt - _you’ve got to go help you’ve got to go you’ve got to help_ \- but how? How? They’re screaming again, it sounds like too many - _GO!_

The next thing Ranboo knows, all he can see is purple, and when the sparks fade from his eyes, he’s outside spawn, the walls a speck in the distance. The scene he overlooks is terrifying. The humanity in him recoils and screams for him to run, but he’s frozen to the spot. 

A man in a blue jacket stands in the middle of a path, wielding a worn-down axe, hacking desperately at the zombie bearing down on him. Several twitching mob carcasses lie immobile on the rotting wood, mapping a clear path of his struggle. 

From just to Ranboo’s right, a skeleton clatters its jaw and pulls back another arrow. The man is too busy with the zombie to do anything about it, but Ranboo sees his eyes widen at it, sees his mouth open in a defeated, soundless screech -

Ranboo rams his body into the skeleton, bones clashing painfully against his own. He wrests the bow from the thing’s hands, breaking off a few of its fingers in the process; moving completely on autopilot, he pulls the arrow back and sends it flying towards the altercation below. He doesn’t wait to see if it hits the zombie, instead turning his sight onto the skeleton, grabbing it by where it would have had a neck and ripping its skull off its body. 

It falls. Ranboo gasps for breath and stares until it breaks into grey ash.

The death throes of the zombie startle him out of it - he turns back and stumbles towards the guy, picking over the dying mobs that one by one dissipate behind him. 

“Who are you,” wheezes the lone fighter when he’s finally within earshot, “who the _fuck_ are you, where the _fuck_ did you come from -”

“I’m Ranboo,” says Ranboo, “I woke up in there, just now. I heard you screaming.”

“You came from spawn?” the man asks. His eyes widen behind his spectacularly smudged glasses. “Holy shit.”

“Why, uh, what,” Ranboo tries, blood still roaring in his ears and making it hard to think. 

“Holy shit,” the man continues, looking stiff and still primed for a fight. “How’d you get - how?”

“I don’t know,” Ranboo says. He starts breathing again, albeit too fast. “Who, sorry - sorry, do I know you?”

Slowly, the man straightens, brushing bits of zombie off his hoodie. “I’m Connor.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Ranboo clears his throat awkwardly. The night air crackles with foreign noise. “Are there more mobs coming?”

“Oh, definitely.” Connor’s still looking at him warily. From the way he shifts the grip on his axe a little higher, Ranboo infers that running into another human being isn’t usually a good sign. “I should be going.”

“Wait!” Ranboo jolts forward as Connor moves to turn away. “Uh, is there a place I can stay?” 

Connor’s fingers clench and unclench around his weapon. 

_Of course he wouldn’t want you_ \- wait, don’t leave - _you won’t last, alone_ -

“Please, sir, I - I don’t even know where I am.” Ranboo winces at how weak it sounds, but it does the trick.

“Prime.” Connor breaks back into motion with a low, guilty laugh, running a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, kid, of course - follow me, yeah?”

“Thanks,” Ranboo says, relieved, quickly falling into step with Connor. 

“Sure. But keep your voice down,” Connor adds, glancing at the sky like it can see him, too. “We’ve already made too much noise.”

Their moonlight stroll takes them through what Ranboo assumes is a city. Towering buildings dot the skyline, and Connor weaves around dark houses and behind the occasional business. It doesn’t seem like a bad neighborhood - at least, not in the cover of night. 

It’s nauseatingly silent. Ranboo catches sight of one too many broken windows and a few crumpled walls, and Connor keeps shushing his footfalls despite there being no sign of any other living thing. _Ghost town._

They eventually jog down the wooden path towards a looming structure in the middle of a lake. It’s made of bricks, the top floor a stagnant, dirty-looking tank of water. 

“Here we are,” Connor mutters, pushing open the door. It creaks with an awful scrape against the floor, making Ranboo cringe. 

“Nice place,” Ranboo says uncertainly. 

“Oh.” Connor grins sardonically, motioning Ranboo to the center of the room, where a spiral staircase terminates into a weird-looking floor of wood and hinges. “Just you wait.”

Connor reaches down, scrabbling over the various metal until his fingers catch on a handle; he pulls, taking half the floor with him. A trapdoor, effectively hidden from the cold, barren aether. “It’s Connor,” he half-shouts down it, voice echoing around the manhole. “Don’t, uh - someone else is coming down first. It’s fine, though.”

Ranboo peers over the edge. There’s a flimsy looking ladder leading a long way down into the dark. 

“It’s safe,” Connor says, urging him forward with a wave. “Go. Quick.”

“Okay,” Ranboo says, and gingerly steps onto the ladder. 

The climb down is a little bit stressful. Ranboo finds himself feeling too large for this three by three space. His feet struggle to find the rungs, and once he even slips off, but he keeps a death grip on the rope with his hands and refuses to panic about it. It’s fine. _You don’t even know where you are._

Once he’s far enough down, Connor hops onto the ladder with practiced ease, closing the hatch above them and effectively removing the last of the moon’s light source. Ranboo blinks, adjusting - when he looks down again, he’s surprised to see a very faint glow illuminating the floor, just a few more feet down.

“Oh, shit,” Connor mumbles from above him. 

“Huh?”

“Your eyes glow in the dark,” Connor says. It sounds slightly accusatory. “I thought it was a trick of the light, up there, but…”

Ranboo doesn’t know what to say to that.

Connor rustles. “Whatever, we can - whatever. Keep going, it’s not far down.”

“Okay,” Ranboo whispers. 

When they reach the bottom, Ranboo squints down a cavernous, echoing tunnel towards what he identifies as the glow of a flickering torch. Connor starts for it, and Ranboo sighs before following. The adrenaline of his spawn has worn off by now, leaving him feeling tired and paranoid and tired of feeling paranoid. 

“Hey,” Connor says to someone Ranboo can’t see, rounding the corner. “Woah -”

Ranboo does the same, and comes face to face with the tip of an arrow.

“Oh,” Ranboo squeaks.

The man behind the crossbow holds the weapon steady. His brown hair is relatively short but unkempt, a pair of cracked red and blue sunglasses nestled on top of his head. A nasty-looking scar slits almost perfectly vertical through his left eyebrow, ending in an abrupt teardrop under his unsettlingly melted-looking iris. It narrows in tandem with his other, normal, thank Prime, eye.

“The fuck’s up with this?” The man asks. He has an accent; his voice is less reedy than Connor’s, sending a spooked shiver through Ranboo.

“Manifold, put that down,” Connor hisses, starting to bat at the crossbow before realizing what a bad idea that is. “He spawned. He’s one of us.”

“Why’s he glowing?” Even in the torchlight? even through the sunglasses? _You can’t hide._

“I don’t know, he’s,” Connor pauses to squint at Ranboo, “hey, kid, are you a hybrid?”

Ranboo can’t much think about anything but the screaming in his chest. _Stop staring, stop staring, stop staring, stop stopstopstop -_

“You’re just now asking this,” Manifold snaps. 

“Gimme a break - hey, kid, did you hear me?”

“Yes,” Ranboo somehow says. “I’m - yes.”

Manifold makes a noise. “What kind of mob looks like that?”

“Hybrid with what, Ranboo?” Connor prompts.

“I don’t,” Ranboo swallows, jaw clenching, “remember.”

“Prime, you’re a shit liar,” Manifold growls. “Did you touch him, Connor?”

“He’s not infected,” Connor says. “I know it. If he were, I wouldn’t be here. He had ample opportunity to turn me, or, hell - he could’ve just let me die. He saved my life, dude. Killed a skeleton with his bare hands.”

“Why’d you bring him back?” Manifold asks, breaking his suffocating glare to turn it on Connor. Ranboo’s shoulders slump with relief. He’s so, so tired.

“What was I supposed to do, just leave him there? Let him be another Puffy?” Here Manifold winces, ever so slightly. Connor crosses his arms.

“His eyes,” Manifold says, a last protest. 

Connor shrugs. “One’s green. And it’s - it’s a different kind of red.” 

Manifold finally lowers the crossbow, raising a hand to rub at his forehead, allowing Ranboo to take in his battered limbs and dirty clothes. His threatening demeanor drops almost instantly. “What kind of fucking hybrid doesn’t remember what they are?”

“Sorry,” Ranboo says. 

“No. No, man, I’m sorry. It’s -” Manifold hesitates, gaze drifting to the back wall. “Trying times, y’feel?”

“Yeah,” Ranboo answers with an attempt at a chuckle. “I feel very tried by the times.”

“His name’s Ranboo, by the way,” Connor announces.

“Well, Ranboo, I’m Jack Manifold,” the man says, and smiles. “Welcome to the shitshow.”

~

_~~Pursuit of Freedom.~~ _

_Day: 0  
Entry: 1_

_Your name is Ranboo. They keep calling you kid so probably you’re young but you can’t be too young because you’re tall. Your eyes glow too. One is red, and one is green, and you shouldn’t take off the sunglasses because light hurts. You’re a hybrid. You don’t remember what kind though, and that might be a problem._

_Jack Manifold is the leader, he’s the one with the scar over his eye. He seems to care about keeping people safe a lot. He might not like you a lot but he’s nice and hopefully he will protect you too._

_Connor is the one with the blue hoodie. He’s the one who found you up above and gave you a place to stay. He defends you and is pretty funny. He’s good._

_There are two others, Vikk and Lazar. Vikk was asleep, so was Lazar, they’re a little older than everyone else. You only got a glimpse of them when Jack went to wake them up for “watch.” (Note: I don’t know what’s going on. What are they watching for? What does infected mean? Who is Puffy?) they seem nice. Update this when you actually meet them though._

_Jack said it was too late to really get you caught up to speed and he went to bed. Connor showed you where to stay and told you that this place is called the Greater Territories. More accurately you’re in the sewers that run under the Greater Territories. There’s a lot of abandoned bases down here. The group you’re with (Note: Jack calls it the Manigang) stays in a bunker type place. There are locks on the entrances and a bunch of armor stands. Some weapons too. (Note: There was also a room with some old books in it and that’s where I got this. I feel bad for taking a book that isn’t mine but I need to write things down. I think. Note inside a note: you have a really bad memory, Ranboo.)_

_Connor suggested you sleep and everything will make sense in the morning. I’ll try. You don’t feel very tired, though. I’m probably just scared, I didn’t like how Jack looked at me earlier, and I don’t think this place is normal. But how would you know? It’s fine._

_See you tomorrow.  
Signed, Ranboo_

_P.S. Maybe get your own book so you don’t keep writing in this poor person’s, when you can. And try not to read earlier than this page! They deserve their privacy, whoever they are. This book can’t be too important, though, so it’ll work for now._

_If it were important, they’d have spelled independence right._


	2. a prima vista

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let the boy ask his questions, Manifold,” Lazar says. “come on. It’s a rough few first days, you know?”
> 
> For all Jack’s bravado, Ranboo thinks he must still be pretty young; there’s something that betrays him in the bags under his eyes and the struggle of his shoulders to stay back and proud. His scar burns red across his face. Ranboo wonders how he got it, but doesn’t think it’s wise to add that to the list of questions just yet.
> 
> “Go on,” Jack says, finally.

_Day: 1_

“Good morning,” Jack Manifold chirps, kicking Ranboo’s shoulder with his boot.

“Wh-huh,” Ranboo struggles awake, brain all muddled, squinting futilely against the blinding torchlight. He searches for the sunglasses in his shirt pocket for a few seconds before realizing he must have left them somewhere else - _where_ -

“It’s breakfast time I hope you like baked potatoes,” Jack hums. “I should thank you. Connor brought them home last night. If it weren’t for you, we’d be down a backpack of food.”

“Oh,” Ranboo croaks, finally finding the glasses just within reach on the floor and fumbling them on. Right. 

Last night, Connor had shoved him into the dusty library with absolutely no guilt, saying _this is the only place we’ve got left that isn’t exposed or taken already, sorry._ On the way there, Ranboo had passed by Jack’s ‘room’ (really just a bit sectioned off of the main room and a hollowed out cave) and silently noted there was plenty of space in there. 

Regardless, he wasn’t about to make a fuss nor ask to be roomies with a stranger who seemed like he’d be just as happy with an arrow through Ranboo’s head, so he’d obediently curled up on the wooden floor and spent a few hours staring at the wall. 

The entrance to the library is a busted redstone contraption, leaving a quarter of a stone door poking out of the wall. Connor had assured him it no longer worked, saying something about the connections being washed away; even still, Ranboo can’t shake off the feeling of claustrophobia as he imagines it finally slamming shut all the way and leaving him stuck in a dark room, all alone. 

He’d fallen asleep - eventually - but the same fear was ever present in his dreams. He’s grateful he can’t remember them.

Despite this, he thinks he can learn to make it work. He likes the smell of books, and besides, he doesn’t need to sleep that long. _Probably._

“What time is it?” Ranboo asks, standing, his suit jacket sliding off his legs and hitting the floor with a sad thump. The floor is hardly comfortable, leaving his joints protesting with every move. He stretches up, pushing his hands against the ceiling and cracking his back out. 

Jack shakes his wrist, the watch on it rattling uselessly. “Couldn’t tell you, but Lazar’s back, so the sun’s finished rising.”

“Why do you still wear that if it doesn’t work?” Ranboo frowns down at Jack.

Jack’s expression fades a little. “I’ve just - always worn it.”

“Right, sorry.”

No one likes personal questions. _Watch what you say._

“So,” Ranboo clears his throat. “Breakfast.”

“Yep,” Jack says, smile a little less wide. “Come on. Let’s get you introduced.”

Ranboo throws on his jacket - which is despairingly wrinkled due to him repurposing it as a blanket - and follows Jack out of the library. 

In the main room of the bunker, Vikk and Lazar are seated around four chests hastily pushed together to make an uneven table. Above them, a thin balcony encircles the room along with an access flight of stairs. The supports look much less than cared for. Ranboo decides he won’t be going up there anytime soon. 

“Hey,” says one of them, crinkling his eyes behind his glasses in a weak smile. “Good to meet you. I’m Vikk, this is Lazar.” He points to the other man, who waves a hand passively. They both wear leather armor, swords lying at their sides.

“Hello,” Ranboo says. “I’m Ranboo.”

“Motherfucker’s tall,” Lazar comments to no one in particular, squinting at him, making Ranboo’s blood itch uncomfortably. Ranboo towers over Jack, standing up straight. He hunches over, a little - it doesn’t fix the problem, but he feels slightly less self-conscious.

Vikk gestures to the makeshift table, where two bowls of potatoes steam into the air. “Feel free to help yourself.”

“As soon as they cool down,” Jack says. “We don’t have silverware or anything, and grabbing a baked potato straight off the coals? I made that mistake once and only once.”

Ranboo surprises himself by laughing. “Okay, yeah.”

“Apparently, you saved Connor’s ass,” Vikk says through his own quiet chuckle.

“That’s a stretch,” Ranboo says. 

“He did not, quote, save my ass,” Connor yells from down the hall, poking his disheveled head into view. “I would have been fine.”

“Mornin’, Connor,” Lazar says.

“Why were you out so late, anyway?” Jack calls back, tone tinged with the slightest hint of frustration. 

Connor pads into the main room, yawning into his arm. “Some asshole was patrolling right around the farms, almost caught me. Made me take the long way home.”

“Which one?” Lazar frowns.

“Hell if I know,” Connor says. “He had antlers.”

“Callahan?” Jack asks, incredulous.

“Callahan,” Connor says, snapping his fingers dryly. “Of course, how could I forget, the bastards have names.”

“Connor,” Jack says, “that was fucking dangerous.”

Connor stares. “I know. I was there.”

“Everything’s dangerous, boys,” Vikk says tiredly. “Sit down.”

Ranboo inches towards the food, folding his legs down in a heap. Lazar hands him a bowl, a potato broken in half inside. Ranboo nods his head in thanks.

Connor copies him, arms tight across his overalls. Jack just sighs and rubs his forehead like he had when Ranboo arrived - Ranboo subconsciously reaches for the pencil clipped to his inside pocket.

“You sleep alright, Ranboo?” Lazar questions.

“Sure.” He’d only slept for an hour or two, but he feels fine. In a similar vein, he doesn’t feel very hungry, either. Whatever hybrid he is must run off of very little, which is a good quality to have in this kind of setting, Ranboo thinks. 

“Good, good,” Lazar nods. “Where do you come from?”

_Where_ do _you come from?_

“I’m going back out, today,” Jack says before Ranboo can answer, still standing. 

There’s a beat, and then Connor scoffs through a mouthful of food. “Oh, but it’s dangerous, don’t you know.”

Jack ignores him. “I’m going back to my house. I need to get something.”

“You want one of us to come with you?” Lazar asks. 

“No. It’s too close to Ponk’s usual route. I’m not having you risk your lives.”

“So you can risk your life for a fucking nostalgia trip, but I can’t do the same just trying to feed us consistently?” Connor asks pointedly.

“It’s not a - a nostalgia trip -”

“Then what is it?”

“I just need to see if a few books survived, that’s not worth losing someone else over -”

“For four fuckin’ weeks I’ve been hearing the same thing, I know I didn’t come off on the best foot, but how incompetent do you think I am?”

“You don’t - it’s not -” Jack exhales, frustrated, “Look, I knew these people, I know how they act. I know this place, you don’t. It’s different.”

“You always say that.” 

“It’s true!”

“Just because you’ve been here the longest doesn’t mean the rest of us are children,” Connor says, accusatory. “Ever since I got here you’ve been all high and mighty -” 

“I’m the only reason you’re still sane -”

“I’ve been through shit, too, Jack -”

“You’ve got no fucking idea what happened here,” Jack spits.

“No,” Connor shouts, “‘cause you’re vague as all hell -”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, all that matters is -”

Vikk clears his throat, interrupting Jack mid-shout. “Uh. Yes, Ranboo?”

“Thank you,” Ranboo says, finally lowering his hand. “That was starting to hurt.”

“You,” Jack starts, then shakes his head. “What?”

“Um, I have a couple questions, if that’s alright.” Ranboo holds up his book.

“Have you been writing in that this whole time?” Vikk asks, sounding amused.

“Yes,” Ranboo mutters. 

“That’s the,” Jack splutters, eyes fixed on the book like it’s dynamite, “fuck.”

“Let the boy ask his questions, Manifold,” Lazar says. “come on. It’s a rough few first days, you know?”

For all Jack’s bravado, Ranboo thinks he must still be pretty young; there’s something that betrays him in the bags under his eyes and the struggle of his shoulders to stay back and proud. His scar burns red across his face. Ranboo wonders how he got it, but doesn’t think it’s wise to add that to the list of questions just yet.

“Go on,” Jack says, finally.

“Okay.” Ranboo can feel everyone looking at him again. _This is a mistake._ He has to know what’s going on. Lazar had even said it was alright, and he seems to be able to pull seniority over Jack’s experience. It’s not a crime to want to know. _If you say so._

Taking a deep breath, Ranboo reads off the first question. “When I first got here, Connor, uh, said I wasn’t infected. What does that mean?”

“That’s loaded,” Jack says. He slouches to the ground, strings cut, accepting the bowl of food Connor hands over without looking him in the eyes. “About five weeks ago, now, this place was full of people, right? But something happened, and most of them left to escape it, but some of them - some of them got caught off guard, I guess.”

Ranboo recalls walking through the lonely, darkened city up above. He’d thought it was just the late hour, but maybe his lurking feeling that something was missing hadn’t been as paranoid as he thought it was. “What happened?” 

“People got infected,” Jack says. “Something’s made them sick. Something’s inside them. One of the symptoms is that their eyes glow red, that’s why I wasn’t sure about you.”

Ranboo shivers, but maybe that’s the fact that Lazar’s still staring, fascinated, at his face. 

“I think it’s a - some sort of growth, some kind of plant or a parasite. When, uh, it was just me and Connor, the second person to arrive after everything went down, her name was Puffy. We ran into her by accident, she was - she’d been trapped in spawn for a few hours, and she’d made too much noise trying to get someone to help her out. By the time we realized someone else was here, well -” Jack grimaces. 

“We couldn’t get too close,” Connor mumbles. “They had found her first, and if - we couldn’t risk getting caught, too. We stayed hidden and just fucking watched.”

“Oh, Prime,” Ranboo whispers. “She - is Puffy dead?”

Jack shook his head. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. But Ponk - uh, one of the infected - Ponk turned her right before our eyes. It’s the only time I’ve watched the process. It was -”

“Bad,” Connor says. 

“Yeah,” Jack says, quiet. “Bad. And ever since, I’ve been trying to find out more about it. If there’s something left to save, if there’s a chance things could go back to normal, I’m going to find it.”

“Okay,” Ranboo says. It’s a lot to process, having never seen any of it in person. _You should be thankful for that._ “Thanks. That’s - I’m sorry, uh, about your friend.”

“Hardly friends. We didn’t even get to say a word to her. We only know her name because she introduced herself to Ponk,” Connor says. “It’s - we - for Prime’s sake. We could’ve saved her.”

“Not without killing Ponk,” Jack says. “I didn’t know how many lives he had left.”

“So maybe we should’ve killed Ponk,” Connor snaps. “Maybe you’re holding onto the past too hard, Manifold. Maybe you’re just in denial.”

Jack narrows his eyes at Connor but doesn’t argue.

“This is the world, now,” Connor continues like he’s cut a brake line, “and I know you had something, before this - I know you miss it - but you said this isn’t everyone, you said there’s others somewhere else. Who’s to say it’s not time to move on, instead of hiding in the sewers forever while you poke around uselessly for a solution?”

“Who’s to say we get to decide something like that?” Jack shoots back. “We’re not - these people had lives, for Prime’s sake! You’d send them to hell for, what, for being too slow, for protecting their friends? Being in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“Their lives could be over,” Connor says. “You don’t know if there’s anything left inside.”

“There has to be,” Jack says, firm. “They’ve got their memories, I know it.”

“Fucksake,” Connor breathes, dropping his head into his hands. “This is shit. This is all shit.”

Jack sighs, deflating. “Connor.”

“We could’ve helped her,” Connor says.

“I know,” Jack mumbles.

Vikk and Lazar are staring awkwardly at the floor, looking as out of place as Ranboo feels.

“If you want to come with me,” Jack says, “and see what we can find, I’ll - you’re welcome to.”

Connor looks up. “You’re joking.”

“No. You’re right, we - we can’t stay down here forever.”

Connor breathes deep, then lets it go in a rush. “Hell yeah, I’ll come with you.”

“I can finally give you a tour of Manifold Land.” 

“Seeing is believing, fucker,” Connor half-heartedly jokes. “Proof of presidency or it didn’t happen.”

Jack turns to Ranboo with a tired look. “Did that cover everything?”

“Um.” Ranboo looks down at his hastily scrawled notes, ink still drying on the worn out pages. “Pretty much, yeah.” 

_Hardly._

~

_Entry: 2_

_Here’s the hierarchy: Jack, Vikk, Lazar, Connor, you (Note: That’s the order people arrived, I think. Except Connor is out of order he should be after Jack?). Jack’s the leader because he’s been here much longer than everyone else._

_They told you a little bit of how things got to be the way that they are. There’s something infecting people. They lost someone to it. Jack lost everyone to it. This place used to be a nation, apparently. There were other nations, too. There’s a world border so everyone who survived has to still be here, but Jack’s never left the Greater Territories. He’s trying to find out what happened, and maybe how to fix it. (Note: they keep saying names I don’t recognize. I’m going to keep a list. ~~Puffy,~~ Callahan, Ponk)_

_Puffy was someone who arrived here like you, but got turned before Jack and Connor could help her. They don’t like talking about it. Don’t bring it up. Vikk is nice, stay on his good side. Lazar is nice, but he keeps looking at you, not maliciously, just curious, probably. There’s a mirror in the bathroom. Look at yourself in there. No wonder he’s staring. What are you?_

_How many people were here? How many are turned? Is anywhere safe to be? Do they know we’re here? Are they still people? Can they be saved?_

_Jack and Connor left around sunset. Jack said the infected that patrol the areas have a harder time seeing in the dark. They went to Jack’s old base, Manifold Land (Note: he was a president once???), and came back with a few books on potions and some supplies. Jack said he’s going to take a page out of your book (Note: that was a super funny joke. Also you’re short a few pages now) and write down everything he’s observed about the infection._

_It’s fine. You’re going to be fine. They’re lovely people, and after that story about Puffy, it doesn’t seem likely that they’ll just abandon you. Unless you do something wrong. Don’t do something wrong._

_See you tomorrow,  
Ranboo_

_P.S. You’re the one that rearranged the lecterns, don’t panic. They’re alphabetized now! you’re welcome._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Need me some muh fuckin motivation so I’m putting this up! I’m working on chapter 5 of this currently as well as the last you heard it first from Charlie, and a Jack Manifold Project Smile so! Let’s go let’s see what happens

**Author's Note:**

> wheeeeeee-  
> Another apocalypse au!! The plan is to get a backlog of chapters so bear with me, cause if I do say so myself, I have a pretty solid backstory and plan for it! 
> 
> If you made it to the end, feel free to let me know if it’s too confusing or if you have any questions :]


End file.
